


Don't ever let your opponent distract you

by stopitanxiety



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, Prinxiety - Freeform, Swords, Teasing, they flirt a whole lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-14 00:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21006761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopitanxiety/pseuds/stopitanxiety
Summary: Virgil trains with Roman on the Fight aspect of his fight or flight response, and their session becomes something more than just a battle of swords.





	Don't ever let your opponent distract you

“Is it my turn to start the match, or yours?”

“Yours. I lost last time, remember?”

_He’d been doing so well, blocking every swing Roman made, sidestepping the quick thrusts of the sword with ease, and even going on the offensive a bit. Virgil had been rather proud of himself, in fact._

_“Ha! Is that all you got, Romano?”_

_The prince had raised a brow skeptically and adjusted his grip on the heavy sword._

_“Alright, you asked for it!”_

_Roman then began a new storm of attacks, raining down blows faster than Virgil could move to block. The tip of the creative side’s sword had been a blur, each movement expertly flowing into the next. Virgil made to parry, but the prince had swung forward, twisting his arm just so, and Virgil’s sword went flying. The point of Roman’s blade had hung only mere inches from the anxious side’s nose and Virgil had scowled upon seeing the smug face the prince was giving him._

_“Seems like you still have more to learn, Peter Panic!”_

Roman snickered at the memory, which earned him a playful punch to the shoulder. The creative side let out an indignant squeal of protest, jutting out his lip and rubbing his arm. The two sides entered the training arena, buckling and snapping on their leather armor as they walked. Virgil had just put on his boots when a shadow fell over him, blocking out the sun.

“Here.”

Roman tossed him a bundle of leather, the anxious side catching it with ease. Unrolling it carefully, Virgil smiled. Inside was his sword— it was the perfect weight, with a blade made of steel and a hilt of some dark type of metal. His favorite part of the whole thing were the small purple crystals inlaid around the handle.

“Now get up, slowpoke. We’re wasting daylight!”

Virgil just rolled his eyes at the pouting prince before standing to his feet and dropping into a fighting stance, his sword raised.

“Let’s do this.”

Roman scrunched his nose and smiled.

“Eager to lose, are you?”

“Don’t talk to yourself, Ro. People will think you’re going crazy.”

The two sides slowly circled around the sparring ground, eyes wide and muscles tensed, ready to leap into action at any moment. The anxious side held his breath, his heart beating loudly in his chest. Then in a move as quick as lightning, Roman surged forward, sword raised and eyes blazing with adrenaline fueled fire. Virgil easily parried the strike, using the prince’s momentum against him to roll under and behind, before slicing up with his sword. Roman cursed and spun around to face his opponent, determination flickering in his eyes once more.

_Block, step to the side, roll, thrust!_

Virgil’s sword was an extension of his arm, swinging and slicing through the air at a lethal speed. Roman seemed to be faltering slightly in his technique. The prince was allowing his emotions to affect his movements, making them sloppy and much less confident than normal.

Virgil pushed forward even faster, each blow to Roman’s sword sending the two of them closer and closer to the edge of the arena until the prince was pressed up against the cold stone wall.

“Had enough yet, Ro?”

Roman narrowed his eyes and aimed a thrust at the anxious side’s shoulder, which Virgil blocked effortlessly with a smirk. The prince huffed in annoyance before launching a new wave of attacks, pushing Virgil back and gaining ground. Now it was the _his_ turn.

“I will _not_ be bested by the likes of you, fiend!”

“Ouch. Going right for the heart, I see.”

Roman parried and spun his sword in his hand smoothly as he circled his opponent, searching for an opening.

“Whatever it takes, V.”

Virgil waited patiently as the prince made his way around the arena. As soon as he passed in front of he closest wall, Virgil copied a move he’d been defeated with many times. Dashing forward, he feinted a strike to the left. Instantly, Roman jumped backwards, hitting the wall with a harsh gasp. He had misjudged the distance and thrown himself off his rhythm. He brought his blade up to block the incoming sword, but it wasn’t there. Virgil quickly switched to the now unprotected right side, swinging hard. Roman froze, face screwed up in anticipation for the pain, but it never came. He cracked open an eye to see Virgil’s sword frozen in the air a few centimeters from his side, with a very smug smile on the victor’s face.

“Looks like the student has become the teacher, _O Pompous_ _One.”_

Roman lowered his sword and Virgil did the same, slinging it over his shoulder and resting the flat of his blade on the thin leather armor. Roman fought to regain his breath.

“Ah. Yes, well done. I suppose that’s enough for today.”

“Hm. I kind of want a rematch, actually.”

Roman quirked a brow, surprised at the anxious side’s words. Virgil never wanted a rematch.

“Alright. If you’re sure you’re _up_ for it.”

The two of them began to circle back around the arena with matching grins. Adrenaline began pouring back into their bodies, sharpening their eyes and fueling their movements.

“That’s big talk coming from the man who just _lost.”_

Virgil jumped up and out, blade swinging to the right as he did so.

“It’s not talk if I know I’ll win!”

Roman let out a laugh of pure exhilaration, rolling under the still airborne side with the ease that comes with years of practice. Virgil landed on his feet with a grunt, whipping around to face Roman’s sword as it swung down towards his ankles. He hopped over the blade and stepped on the tip of the weapon with his boot, effectively ripping it from the prince’s grip. Roman was pulled to the ground from the sudden change of force, landing on his hands and knees.

Scowling, he sat back on his heels and looked up. His mouth went dry and the prideful comment he was about to say vanished from his lips.

Above him stood Virgil, still in his not-quite-wide-enough fighting stance (they’d have to work on that). The anxious side had a confident smile on his face, one eyebrow raised in amusement. Sweat slicked bangs half-covered the right side of his face, the strands swaying in the breeze. A glimmer of pride was dancing in his eyes, and his cheeks were flushed from the physical exertion.

Roman couldn’t breathe. He jumped to his feet and stubbornly looked down at his hands, blushing furiously.

“That’s two for me, isn’t it?”

The prince didn’t say anything. He knew his voice would betray him if he did. Virgil made a questioning sound and lowered his voice.

“You okay?”

Roman nodded quickly.

“Yep! Yep yep yep, I’m just fine.”

Virgil’s sword came up and carefully lifted the creative side’s chin so the two were eye to eye. Virgil looked concerned.

“Are you _sure?”_

“Yeah,” Roman’s voice was shaky and breathless. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Realization seemed to dawn on Virgil, and the concern was replaced with a lopsided smile. He stuck the end of his sword into the soft earth and stepped forward so he was dangerously close to Roman’s chest.

“I want a rematch, Princey.” The soft whisper sent a new wave of heat to Roman’s cheeks. “Only if you’re up for it, though.”

The anxious side leaned forward, stopping just short of the taller side’s lips, questioning.

“What is it, Ro? Cat got your tongue?”

The prince’s eyes flashed with mischief.

“He’s _about_ to.”

Roman closed the distance between them, a rush of confidence spurring him forward. Virgil laughed into the kiss, his fingers tangling themselves in the prince’s soft brown hair and tugging gently. Roman nipped on the shorter side’s lower lip, internally cheering when the other’s breath hitched and he answered with a swipe of his tongue. Abruptly, Virgil pulled back with a crooked smile on his kiss-swollen lips and a challenge in his eyes.

The anxious side retrieved his sword and slung it over his shoulder, running his free hand through his hair to tame it.

“So, same time tomorrow? Can’t _wait_ to beat you again.”

Roman realized he’d dropped his jaw in shock, so he snapped it shut and glared at Virgil with as much sass as he could muster up.

“You _little_—“

“Adiós, Princey!”

Virgil gave him a two finger salute and sunk out, leaving Roman alone to pout about being quite literally swept off his feet.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow’s match.


End file.
